The lab intern steps to the open door and motions for me to “exit here, down the hall and to the left.” That’s it? That’s all that is said after you’ve just been informed that you have a small mass on one of your ovaries? Here’s the door!

I walk the length of the short hallway, looking to the office clerk ahead of me busily chatting on the phone; no, no eye contact – guess I simply leave. I turn left into the bright light of the waiting room, wondering, does my face show that I have just had unsettling news? What are these people here for? What type of news will their procedure reveal to them? So this is what it is like to journey this road? But what exactly is this road? I don’t know yet. I won’t know, likely for several days as results are read and forwarded to this or that doctor; and it is the week before Thanksgiving – I don’t imagine things will move rapidly. I’ve heard about sitting inGod’s waiting room…

Is God’s waiting room anything like the waiting room of the imaging center; bright, stark, impersonal, Other’s sitting focused on their phones or reading material? Is it a confusing maze that I have to journey solo?

I continue straight away to the door, out into a relatively bright day for the Pacific Northwest and over to the privacy of my vehicle. Pleading with my mind to hold my emotions at bay until I am secluded inside my vehicle – don’t let the world see me weak, raw, vulnerable, and afraid – afraid of the unknown. Yet therein is the lie, for this is not an unknown.

This is new and unknown to me, but it is not unknown to the One who holds my story. To the Author of my story. A mass does not surprise Him, He already knows every detail about it. He knows the beginning and the end of this chapter of my story and more importantly, he has divine purposes for this chapter and He moves toward me in good and loving ways, always and in all ways. So the answer is, no, His waiting room is not stark, nor impersonal and the Other’s that He has intentionally and strategically placed in my life for this particular chapter move toward’s me in loving and supportive ways.

Strategic means include my move to the Pacific Northwest (PNW) for graduate school – which is no more. (More on that another time, but know that it was certainly not a mistake nor a failure.) For the time being I remain here in the home of people who so kindly welcomed me to reside with them on their poultry farm and work as a farm intern for room and board. These kind people, upon hearing the news – yet still so much unknown – offered whatever help I may need. They even opened their home if a friend might want to come be by my side to support me in whatever may lay ahead. My Sisters have been praying all week. My old church family is praying. My family is praying. My friends are praying. A very dear-to-me friend prayed over me Monday night – so that is what it feels like to have someone you care so much for, pray over you! Swoon!

I have long been away from my blog as I journeyed the final days of my divorce and then plunged headlong into an intensive undergrad program and within days of its completion transitioned to the beautiful PNW, investing all my worldly resources and personal energies into pursuing my graduate degree. Along with my academic venture I have needed space to grieve the death of my 30 year marriage. The loss of significant material goods and the adjustment in life that loss demanded. 2015-2016 found me drowning in graduate studies with not a spare moment or resource to genuinely live. For many months I have felt the call to return to my blog, though it will be decidedly different, as I am significantly different than years ago. Today, I made the decision to return to one of my loves – the expression of life through the written word. This reality check of setting in God’s waiting room draws me to record this journey.

The reality of this journey is that indeed, I am significantly different than who I was, what has it been three, maybe four years ago, since I last wrote. My faith has had many opportunities to grow, deepen, be enriched. God has lain many a gift via trials in my lap for me to embrace and grow sweeter or reject and grow bitter. This new chapter is yet another gift of opportunity to move toward my Lord in trust, resting in the peace that can only be found in the knowledge that I have nothing to fear for He is in control.

Might you set with me a spell as this new chapter unfolds?

I stopped in to my local coffee/wi-fi supplier to share some thoughts and as I sit down I am struck by what a delight it is to hear three young fathers – apparent by their conversation. To hear a father delight in the fruit of his loins and then in walks his wife with their son and he beams and the other two likewise and ooh and ahh over this young life they are blessed to mold and guide. As I type he continues to hold this joy of his life and kiss him on the head. How I am blessed and yet saddened. Why saddened? There are so many children whom have never known this fatherly love and those now who will not. My own did not experience this level of fatherly love. While I do not doubt that their father loved his children, sadly he was not able to demonstrate it in a healthy, nurturing manner. Additionally, I am saddened for the great loss that he experienced by not being able to give of himself to others…what a loss it is for him….not to mention my dear children.

Now, for what really prompted me to write this morning. Locally we have been uncharacteristically cold – downright icy morning after morning. Mr. Frost has been busily painting the newly sprouted grasses a beautiful crispy white and his assistants weaving their lace finery of thin ice over the rivulets and pools that form where the soil is saturated and unable to drink anymore moisture at the moment. I hated driving through the edge of one of the pools and destroying the icy lace.

My father says to watch the animals to learn. This morning as I drove forward on the ranch to feed my chickens which are housed on the back side of one of the horse sheds I observed the horses standing with their backs to the metal siding. I am impressed with how smart God created them to be. With their backs to the metal siding they are catching the heat radiating off the metal and their faces into the sun they are catching the heat of the direct rays.

This is the last day of the most memorable year of my life. 2012. This year will surely go down in infamy in my life…haha, love words, tho upon checking it’s definition infamy has a negative connotation and while 2012 has had a plethora of negativity it has also had some of the greatest blessings that I have ever experienced. Therefor, indulge me today and allow me the grace to give ‘infamy’ a little bit of my own meaning.

I last wrote and told you that I would have a different approach in my postings.

Second, but first in my life, is that my heart is spoken for as I love the Lord Jesus Christ. This is not meant to be offensive to anyone who does not love whom I love; anyone whom has yet to experience this love relationship that is like no other. I am simply telling who who Iam. If who I am is offensive to you you have the freedom of choice to not read my blog but please be kind one to another. I am not the person that is to judge you nor change you, I do not hold that power. I simply desire to share my thoughts and many of those thoughts center around my love relationship.

Third, I likely will infrequently do food posts. I love cooking. Food is a love language for me. However, I have no wi-fi at home. I have only limited knowledge of how to put it all together and it was consuming too much of my time. I would love to be sharing the blessings of my creativity, i.e., what I created this morning as a result of a last minute invite for tonight and an income that is less than $1,000.00 per month…….more on all of this later.

Last but, yes, not least. I am the happiest that I have been in SO very many years. I desire to share that happiness with you and pray that in so doing you may be blessed.

Bless…Be Blessed~

(As I sign off, the young father continues to cradle his son who is now contentedly sleeping in his daddy’s safe arms.)

I needed to write a quick post to state that I likely will not be able to post here until my court proceedings are completed. In ProPer is a daunting task not to mention the stress of a marriage dissolution for an individual who never wanted divorce and believes that you do everything to save a marriage.

When I started blogging I thought I would be able continue through the proceedings, desiring to share my journey as I traveled along this path but alas, some days are so incredibly challenging that I find I cannot concentrate to place my feelings and experience into words. I thought that sharing my love of good food and the creativity I find in it would be helpful. While it is, it is also a challenge in my present living situation to accomplish what is required in preparing, photographing, composing and posting.

Therefore, until I am in a place where I am able to post more regularly I will forego it for the time being.

I will return with a different approach that is more revelatory of who I truly am as I have spent considerable time in composition in hopes of not being offensive to individuals with views that may differ from my own. In this I have not been true to myself nor thee One whom I love so dearly.

Do you have a Heart of Stone? Why would a foodie veer off in this direction? As man does not live by bread alone, this foodie and wordsmith is more than a good meal. 🙂 As my ‘About’ states I have intended to write and share ‘things that delight my heart’ which includes the unpleasantries of this journey. How can the unpleasantries of our journey delight my heart? They delight my heart because even in the messiness of life we find glimpses of beauty. I see these glimpses as kisses – or promises – if you will. Promises of Hope. A friend calls them, ‘Love letters from God slipped under the door of your life.’

As motorcycle riding is therapeutic. Writing is cathartic. As I have mentioned, riding my motorcycle is a blessed time to think; to observe Creation all around, to be drawn to thee Creator and process my journey in life.

Sassy- hand on hip me – and ‘Candy’ ~ cordelectatio@wordpress.com

First, kuddos to gifted Roxi Mueller for her generosity in doing a photo shoot. (Check out her work at Roxi Mueller Photography on Facebook). Secondly, I chose this particular photo to introduce myself and my Therapy Machine …hehe. The hand on my hip is indicative of, just some, of my brokenness. I can be P.C. and tag it ‘sassy, determined or strong-willed’ possibly other labels that would claim to be ‘sensitive’ to my self-esteem. What is wrong with the truth? Why have we become a society that is afraid of speaking the truth? Speaking the truth because we love people enough to speak truth into their lives and have the grace to speak it – not as judge and jury, not my job nor intent – but as one truly and deeply concerned about the consequences if the truth is not spoken.

My stubborn nature could be looked upon as a gift, just as being a good cook or a wordsmith. It certainly was not a mistake in how I was created. The trouble begins with my rebellion. My rebel Adamic nature that wants all of Creation to be about me. Day in and day out it demands to be first. Every minute of every hour it yearns for control. Ahh, control, there’s a large piece of the pie of brokenness in my life.

I’ll start with a little family of origin history. My parents both come from fairly broken homes. One an alcoholic dad. The other a terribly abusive dad. So, as I have learned in my 7+ years of co-dependent recovery work, it is valuable to look at my family of origin to understand the why of co-dependency. To see where generational bondage flowed from. To shed light on the patterns of sin that they may be exposed; owned; repented of and the transformative processes begun. Transformation only occurs in the light of truth.

Shedding light on my patterns of sin is no easy journey. To walk into a room of strangers, state my name and share that I am broken; my family is broken; and that despite ALL of my attempts to fix, I cannot. The control that I, as a co-dependent, strove to have in order to feel safe in the midst of the chaos of my broken marriage was toxic. However, the thing about brokenness is that the majority of the time we don’t realize how broken we are. That is, until, thee Light is shed upon it. For too many years I believed that my husband’s addictions were my fault. That I somehow caused them. That is a part of co-dependency (here out C-D) that led me to loose who I was. Constantly trying to morph into whatever I thought would be necessary to ‘be enough’ so that he would not feel the need to abuse substances. I am not the cause of his substance abuse issues. I cannot control them. I cannot fix them. Talk about having the proverbial weight of the world lifted off my back when I learned that fact! Yeah, only to realize that I had so very much of my own stuff to own.

….my own stuff! For sure. And with that I will leave you today. However, I finally have a day off – so to speak. I am determined to borrow my brother’s oven and do a bit of therapeutic baking so that will be my next share. Thinking maybe some Granola Scones, Chai-Spiced Cookies or possibly Oh, Glory! Muffins for the freezer.

Nope, I’m not confused about what time of year it is. I have been so excessively busy lately (at least it feels like it to me) but I have not gotten to the point where I have forgotten the seasons…yet!

Trumpeters of Season’s Change?!

Recently I wrote about feeling the change coming but not, as yet, having seen evidence of it in the flora. Today, according to the calendar, it is official. The first day of Fall. I did see it just the other day in the leaves of the Raywood Ash tree. Also saw it in the gathering waterfowl population at the wildlife refuge.

Two weeks ago young people from church arrived to help work on the dog pen. Naturally my father could not stay away from helping; upon his arrival he handed me a vase filled with these stunningly beautiful flowers. Aren’t they stunning? My father regularly cuts flowers, placing them in a vase in the kitchen window for my mother’s enjoyment. Kisses.

Stunning Beauty…”BAM! Here’s Fall”

I don’t know the real name of this flower. I call them Firecrackers, my brother calls them Sparklers…so Sparklers it is for this article. My church has had an unofficial Flower Lady that regularly shares bulbs and rhizomes from her yard along with providing weekly, beautiful, informal arrangements. Mom picked up some of these little bulbs years back, stuck them in the ground and as they have bloomed and multiplied, been blessed with this amazing little beauty that bursts onto the scene late in the season as if it were the official “Trumpeter of Season’s Change”.

I am venturing into different waters for this post and intend for a series to speak to the brokenness of humanity from my perspective which is undoubtedly filtered through my life experiences.

Upon photographing a small collection of Stone Hearts that I have, I originally intended to ask, “What Heart is Yours?” Whole, Broken, Fractured, Stretched, Small or Large? However, after my adventure this weekend and as so often is the case when I spend hours in the saddle of my motorcycle pondering life, I have concluded upon another approach.

ooops, that is not how that sentence is supposed to read but that is just how I typed it. Indication of how exhausted I am. Promise to post tonight or tomorrow. Had an unexpected turn around trip to Las Vegas to come alongside a friend after a busy week.

Happy “PEZ” Birthday Dear Daughter

Birthday dinner with family tonight. I snoozed while a Fig Balsamic Pork Loin Roasted in foil on the top shelf of the BBQ. Hope it turns out tasty.

My family had a number of Bill Cosby records that we would put on and have a hearty belly laugh. I mean really LOL long before the acronym LOL was tossed around!!! From another room I would hear my brothers imitating Fat Albert, “Hey, hey, hey”. The record that comes to mind tho is the one where Bill talks about having tonsils removed, “ICE Cream! We’re gonna get ICE Cream!!!” If I recall correctly the adult world is trying to sell the concept of tonsil removal by talking up all of the ICE Cream! afterwards.

My father is a habitual consumer of ice cream. It is a nightly ritual that even their little dog reminds them of (that is a whole other post). Mom just goes along for the shared delight with the man she loves. They have small glass dishes that dad places one scoop for mom and two for himself into. Even at 80 he is still so active that he remains trim. As a boy in his parents restaurant along the Eel River in the California Redwoods he and his brothers would sneak into the large containers of ice cream in the freezer.

Crispy Cookie Crumbs ~ cordelectatio@wordpress.com

I have shared my Pineapple Balsamic Ice Cream with you, so with having some overdone cookies and not being able to throw them out I settled on Crispy Cookie Crumble Ice Cream. Quite simple. Basic Vanilla Ice Cream recipe and at the last minute stir in your favorite, or overdone, cookie – crumbled. I guess my french rolling pin is still in a box somewhere so I used my meat tenderizer to crumble my cookies. I use the side of it to crack nuts also. I am no photographer but I happen to like how the afternoon sunlight shines through my kitchen zone window and casts shadows on food items.

This week was Crispy Cookie Crumble Ice Cream and my next chilly epicurean adventure will be Carmelized Fig & Walnut Ice Cream. Plan to try my hand at a Paleo rendition of it. Will let you know how it comes out.

Crispy Cookie Crumble Ice Cream ~ cordelectatio@wordpress.com

Fig season is winding down so I have been busily jamming away and savoring the perfect little package – figs. Ooh, I just remembered that in short order Persimmons will be ripening. Bring on the frost!

I am not advocating screaming, but you might politely, persuasively and assertively pursue the consumption of some creamy, chilly, deliciousness. Oh, what the heck, go ahead, a good scream once in a bit does a body good….WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM!

Basic Vanilla Ice Cream Recipe for Cuisinart I.C. Maker

1 cup milk 3/4 cup granulated sugar

2 cups whipping cream 1-2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 pinch of salt Cookie crumbles

In a medium bowl, use a hand mixer or whisk to combine milk and sugar until sugar dissolves, about 1-2 minutes on low speed. (I use a whisk.) Stir in the heavy cream and vanilla to taste. (I chill it for 10-15 minutes in my freezer.) Turn the Cuisinart Automatic Frozen Yogurt Ice Cream & Sorbet Maker on, pour mixture into freezer bowl through the ingredient spout and let mix until thickened, about 25-30 minutes. To add the cookie crumbles watch as the mixture thickens and add through ingredient spout about 5 minutes before ice cream is finished.

I’ll go first with the two that pop into my mind…the first one is amongst willow saplings along a rushing stream between Grant and Silver Lakes on the June Lakes Loop. Dad and I are fishing this stream fed with snowmelt likely flowing out of the Ansel Adams Wilderness area . If you’ve ever been in this area you know of it’s amazing rugged beauty, if not, you need to add this to your bucket list of places to see. Do you ride motorcycle? Thee best way to see this area….oh my! Just don’t get so distracted by the beauty that you go shiny side down! If you ride a dual sport then add in the ride out to Bodie. If you like geology, take in Devil’s Postpile too.

Sweet & Juicy O’Henry Peach……cordelctatio@wordpress.com

Back to fishing. So we are fishing this little stream and I hook and land a fish for which I am excited. I’ve always enjoyed fishing – WHILE I am catching – otherwise I grow bored or feel guilty that I am wasting time. However, I cannot get the hook out of this little fish and I do not want it to get off of the hook. So I wrap my little hand tightly around the fish, clutch it to my jacket and take off for the help of my hero – my daddy. With the very same patience that had expended countless hours teaching me to fish and replace so much lost gear..he removes the hook and places it on the stringer. Fish on hook + fish securely landed + fish off hook and on stringer = one happy daughter.

Redamonti’s Riffle on the Sacramento River is the stage of the second story and opens with me standing knee deep in cold water watching steelehead dink at freckles on my legs. First time fishing for steelhead and I caught – well, well, I caught a jack salmon. There is a polaroid somewhere with me proudly holding my 6.25 pound jack salmon. Actually I hadn’t had much experience fishing in a river, mostly streams, so when it came to reeling this salmon in I had trouble and could not get the hang of reeling while keeping pressure on the hook. “Where there is a will there is a way”. SOooo, I start walking backwards on the vast spans of exposed rocks in this sweeping bend of the river. Back. Back. Back, until that fabulous little salmon came a’dragging out of the water. Alright, alright, stop ‘ur laughing, now. It was on land. It was my first salmon. True to my style, I got ‘er done.

Heat your grill and oil the grate with the EVOO on a paper towel, using tongs to hold the towel and rub the oil on. Lay fish fillets on grill grate. Grill till fillet shows light pink on the bottom. Flip fillet and lay rosemary sprig on and finish grilling.

Tear romaine into bite sized pieces. Tho I must be honest, when I make it for myself, I cut my romaine. Flake the cooked steelhead on top of the romaine, layer on the cucumber, sweet red pepper, chunked Havarti and sliced peach. Sprinkle the chopped cilantro over the top. Lightly drizzle with Peach Balsamic. I had a half slice of cooked bacon that I chopped and added and I did not reduce the Balsamic. I used it straight from the bottle so drizzle sparingly.

Well, alright, not exactly Cream. More like organic, pasteurized, non-GMO, 2% milk but I know the Peaches ‘n’ Cream phrase and that’s what popped into my head as I prepared my breakfast. The most basic of activities sets my mind to pondering, maybe it’s wondering! Maybe it’s Spaghetti Brain! Maybe it’s the mid-life “M”-pause at which my masculine readers cringe. Whatever the cause, using my last peach prompted me to lament that I have not had the time nor means to indulge in the quantity of peaches that I’d normally indulge in and the past few delightfully cool mornings remind me that the season is winding down. I can feel the change occurring. I have yet to see signs of it in the trees. I have yet to see or hear signs of it in the sky…but the morning temperatures are heralding the changing of the seasons. Heralding changes draws my mind to the pomp and circumstance surrounding – heralding – the changing of the guard at the Palace in Prague which I witnessed during a brutally cold December visit.

Changing of the guard at Palace in Prague, CR ~ cordelectatio@wordpress.com

Growing up in a climate that put on a rather drab change of seasons performance, I relish my first hand observatory of the wondrous display, the nuances put forth for those who choose to tune in, listen up and take note. My previous residence heralded the change dropping copious quantities of acorns. The mountain residence prior heralded the change with deer congregating close in town to escape the arrows of bow hunters, prior to the deer the Canadian Geese would honk the change as they schooled their new brood in the fine art of water lift off’s and landings on the safety of the calm backwaters of the lake; strengthening their muscles and perfecting their V. I miss their melodies drifting on the crisp fall breezes through open windows. It has been my habit to drop what is at hand and fly out the door to listen, to scan the skies and drink in the wonder of migrating birds. (Maybe it’s a creative mind that ponders where they’ve been and what they’ve seen and wishes that I’d been a hitchhiker on a wing.) The Ross’s Goose flies high and has a melodic song that bids me drop my task at hand, diligently search the sky following their faint high-pitched yet perfectly tuned melody until I find their tiny forms high overhead. For indeed, all Creation declares His name.

Ross Goose by Ryan Askren

Seasons of weather. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter. A time to sow, a time to reap. Seasons of life. Birth, Growth, Sorrow, Joy, Peace, Maturity, Contentment, Death. A time to live, a time to die. A purpose for every Season.

Look at her Blush! ~ cordelectatio@wordpress.com

With the slip of a peach’s skin I am flooded with memories of my great-grandma and canning peaches in her tiny Nebraska kitchen. Wish I could share with you my minds-eye picture of that kitchen and my mom and I working with her. I can hear her wonder and amazement at the simple, yet majestic beauty of a peach’s ‘blush’. How she valued the gift of fresh peaches and cherries that we would bring her from our drive through Provo Canyon, Utah. For a woman who managed to scrape together a sandwich for any person in need that knocked on her back door along the tracks of North Platte during the Great Depression, preserved cherries and peaches bedazzling the shelves of her winter pantry were a treasure indeed.

My preservation of fruit has dwindled considerably since my own brood has flown the coop, mainly put up jams that I use as gifts. I do dehydrate a quantity of O’Henry Peaches for my snacking pleasure on my motorcycle. O’Henry is my favorit-est (yes, I do insist that it is a word in this case. Alright English teachers, my most favorite) peach. Firm. Juicy. Minimal Fuzz. Packed with flavor. A breeze to dehydrate too as there is no sulfuring required. Just run ’em through the tomato slicer and spread on the trays. When dehydrated I place them in ziplocs in the freezer. If they should get a bit to dry wet your hand and shake it into the bag…not too much tho…just a tad. These are wonderful on trips to keep things moving along.

Peaches ‘n’ Blueberries ~ cordelectatio@wordpress.com

I didn’t get this posted yesterday and there was a sign this morning as my kitty girl jumped up to snuggle my lap. Delight in her unconditional lovies.

About me

Each individual has a path to journey. Each has their individual gifts and tools with which to traverse that path. All are called, not all respond.
Many things delight my heart, some break it.
I share my own journey with you.....